


i'm not letting you give me a dinosaur (and run away)

by meganekun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, early morning conversations, tsukishima kei is in love with yamaguchi tadashi pass it on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganekun/pseuds/meganekun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which college kids talk about the future without talking about the future and yamaguchi knows more about dinosaurs than expected (but it’s not really a surprise anyway)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm not letting you give me a dinosaur (and run away)

"You’re not gonna name our children after dinosaurs."

Tsukishima blinks a few times, fighting the confused face expression his features beg to contort into, because – wow, if that wasn’t the most bizarre thing Yamaguchi has ever said to him.

When Yamaguchi lets out a quiet laugh and Tsukishima is assured he didn’t just hallucinate for the first time, he turns his head over on the pillow just enough to be able to hold eye contact. To his surprise, Yamaguchi isn’t looking anywhere in his direction, but gazes at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes and a sleepy smile.

Tsukishima sighs.

"Why not," he says quietly, too lazy to move his lips properly and raise his voice enough to make a question out of it. To be fair, it’s not really a question that he’s ever thought about before, unlike the dark-haired boy next to him, apparently.

Yamaguchi’s lids fall closed and he swallows audibly, but not in a nervous manner at all. Kei shamelessly watches his Adam’s apple bob, traces the few freckles on his throat up to his sharp chin, to his cheeks that have still not quite lost their roundness and the lot of freckles further up on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose with his eyes. (They have become more prominent lately, notes Tsukishima smugly and gives himself an internal pat on the back for continually stealing Yamaguchi’s snapbacks this summer.)

The early morning sun rays sneak through the almost-closed ashen curtains and illuminate Yamaguchi’s dark eyelashes as his eyes open once again and a bit further than before.

"Because, the poor children," Yamaguchi replies simply, and there’s a hint of genuine accusation and perhaps even frustration in his tone, but it’s cancelled out by his lips stretching into a small, close-lipped smile again. Something thuds in Tsukishima’s stomach, pierces from somewhere deep inside and his skin breaks out in goosebumps underneath the blanket. Yamaguchi still isn’t looking at him.

"And they couldn’t even tell anybody, you know why?" Tsukishima knows he doesn’t have to ask, because Yamaguchi knows he doesn’t like to. You learn that much when you spend the majority of your time since elementary school and move in come university together.

"Because they’d actually be average Western names. Which is, well, still out of the ordinary, but I’ve heard of people with a thing for those before." Yamaguchi licks over his lips, dry from sleep; his exhale sounds a little bit like a mix of a snort and a scoff. "So you’d, like, name your child Alberto, his passport would say Alberto, his friends would call him Alberto, but _you_ would just insist on calling him Albertosaurus. Just, wouldn’t let up at all. Would probably blackmail or otherwise get me to do it, too. And I would lose my status as a cool dad," he snaps his fingers, "just like that."

Tsukishima bites his lip so hard he thinks it’s sure to leave indents. He shuffles closer on the bed, raising his blanket up to his nose and turns his face fully, not quite touching, but breathing into Yamaguchi’s tan shoulder.

Yamaguchi still isn’t looking at him.

Tsukishima syncs his breathing to the rhythm of Yamaguchi’s chest moving up and down, close enough for him to lift his hand and touch the soft material of his old sleep shirt, maybe even push the hem of it up and caress the warm skin above his hipbones. But the atmosphere is too fragile, Kei can read that clearly. This is different than Yamaguchi not daring to confront him about something that bothers him, they’re a little past that. It’s bigger, a lot bigger and Tsukishima doesn’t particularly feel overwhelmed or, on the opposite, claustrophobic at the imagery, but more at the many possible ways it could go – thirty percent right, seventy percent wrong, because his pessimistic ways are way too engrained in his thought processes by now.

Yamaguchi is optimistic enough for the both of them, when it really counts. Maybe this is one of those times, but Kei’s not awake enough to tell.

Yamaguchi was probably planning on that, he thinks; he’s clever like that.

"You don’t think I’d name my child Rex then," Tsukishima breaks the silence.

It feels strange, as he doesn’t do it a lot, since Yamaguchi is often content enough to talk without an actual input from him aside from a sign that he is, in fact, listening, but he’s been getting better at it lately.

Lately in their time frame, that is.

He hums and actually takes it into consideration: sternly calling a small, faceless figure _Tyrannosaurus Rex_. Yamaguchi, you ridiculous, _ridiculous_ boy, he thinks to himself. Yamaguchi turns around and looks at him, the blanket riding off his shoulder. He needs his glasses.

"Ah, but Tsukki, I know you better than that, don’t I? You would never pick something so common," Yamaguchi declares almost confidently, but the way his gaze slips to the wrinkles in the blanket pooling beneath his armpit betrays him.

Kei can still pick the _Tsukki_ apart and hear a bit of pride in it. He shuts his eyes and lets out a noise that he hopes reflects the soft smile he can feel blooming, invisible underneath the cotton, and gives Yamaguchi confidence. It has taken him a long while to realize that he’s not forced to build Yamaguchi up, because he would never expect him to, but that he likes doing it in the subtle way he does things anyway.

Yamaguchi glances up – or, rather, down, since Tsukishima is still lying next to his shoulder – and the soft look in his eyes makes him feel victorious, makes him let his guard down enough to rub his nose against the tan skin in slow back-and-forth motions, eyes closed again as to not tickle Yamaguchi with his eyelashes whilst blinking, but they flutter and tickle him anyway.

Yamaguchi doesn’t say a word.

**Author's Note:**

> the **credit** for this fic’s idea goes to [@haikyuuheadcanon](http://www.haikyuuheadcanon.tumblr.com) on tumblr, thank you very very much and sorry that it got… away  
>  first fic on here, so some feedback would be much appreciated :)  
>  **what i was listening to while writing:** dancing on quicksand by bad suns and 9 by drake


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